This is the kind of traitor free state we live in. Our media is hijacked by West Brit rats, and we Irish seem utterly unable to do anything about it. It's over 20 years since our so called national theater the Abbey Theater produced a play in Irish - and that was a vicious revisionist slander on the IRA of the Tan War. We are like pieces of broken wood on the tide. No control whatsoever over our own destiny - no real idea that we even should have a destiny.
In my local shop, a free newspaper in Chinese is given out. Why not? If the Chinese have the balls to produce a free newspaper in their own language, then fair play to them. If only the Irish had so much courage. Sadly, the Irish don't even seem to have enough decency to be ashamed. A broken people no longer feels shame.
We might look to our left wing parties for some guidance, but all we see here is the blind leading the blind. The Trots are nothing but leftie West Brits, and PSF has no real cultural policy or ambition - despite the very good work being done by some individuals in that party - on an individual rather than on a party basis. Nor do the militant Republicans have any real cultural ambition or inspiration.
It seems to me that any party that does not have the Irish language as it's gut feeling of the world - not some vague aspiration, but a deep will to make the Irish language the very foundation of everything they do - is not worth a shit to the Irish nation. What use is getting the Brits out - if we are nothing but green Brits ourselves? Those who are too lazy and too stupid to learn the Irish language will never be strong leaders - they are nothing but weak leaders - and should remove themselves from leadership positions.
What I'm saying here is also essentially garbage, as it's not in the language of our nation. Language is not really about ideas, its about feeling and belonging. When I write this language, I belong to the world of the Anglo-Saxon, to the world of the enemy.
But, I have not given up hope. We have been grinded into dust and walked on. Made into strangers in our own land. Made to crawl before foreigners. In ourselves, we are the most pathetic generation that ever walked this land. But, thank God we have the memory of our glorious heroes of the past, and the hope of heroes to come. A nation is never just one generation. What madness it was for a mere thousand men and women to face the might of the British Empire, and match it, fist for fist, bullet for bullet and bomb for bomb for six glorious days. But, the real madness would have been not to do it. We careful ones are the real lunatics. We die the death of a thousand cuts of shame, and then ignoble oblivion - while the mad ones shine in glory forever.
Less than one thousand Gaeltacht children left. The same number that marched out on Easter 1916. The genocide that the English always dreamed of is nearly complete. And, to make it all the more satisfactory, the last murderous cut made by the slave Irish themselves. Could any story be more filled with shame and degradation?
Still, we cannot give up. If we are small, be must be infinitely more determined for that. Determined to win back our internal strength and will to be a nation - to create a nation anew from the ruins.